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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598571">Illusions in the forest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tate_The_Great/pseuds/Tate_The_Great'>Tate_The_Great</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Coraline (2009), The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aliens, Body Horror, Coraline AU, Emotional Manipulation, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I guess you could say its a... corinline au, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Psychological Drama, Shapeshifting, Sooo much pining, This isn't really coraline uhh its coraline but in space?, too many italics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:28:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,291</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tate_The_Great/pseuds/Tate_The_Great</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That’s not Corin. </p>
<p>It looks like Corin. It sounds like Corin. It even feels like Corin. </p>
<p>But its hair is parted on the wrong side. Its smile shows too many teeth. Its clothes are spotless without even a speck of dirt on his sleeves or sap on his shoes. The glare on his armor is too bright, like painted plastic.</p>
<p>And its eyes. Eyes which should be blue. Blue as a clear day on Naboo. Blue as the glacier fed lakes high in the mountains of Sorgan. Blue like the swirling methane gas giants orbiting a dying star. Blue like the color of home and everything Din has grown to love and let in. </p>
<p>This monster’s eyes are white. Almost translucent like the fog that limits Din’s vision. Opaline, glittering and blank. Nothing but pure white. No iris. No pupil. No blue. Nothing. </p>
<p>----------</p>
<p>Din finds himself in the middle of everything he ever wanted. After a lifetime of telling himself no, what could be the harm in indulging just a little?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Illusions in the forest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starshifting/gifts">Starshifting</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts">LadyIrina</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A huge huge shout out to the Mandorin Discord! This isn't really my fic nor my idea. They came up with nearly everything in here and I just wrote out their ideas! This fic is a group effort more than anything. Sorry it got so long and spiraled out of control! This was only supposed to be 10k and.. well... </p>
<p>Hope you enjoy! And I hope it's as creepy as y'all want. This is my first time writing anything close to the horror genre so if it falls flat don't blame me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The forest felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>off. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Din isn’t sure how he knows, but he does. Maybe it’s in the way the leaves ruffle against the wind. Or in the way the grass is nearly the color of antifreeze. The trees, towering so high that Din can’t see the tops, appearing and disappearing and blending together in an endless maze. The canopy flits in and out of existence. The sun filtering down through the leaves, almost hypnotic in the patterns it castes onto the forest floor. There’s a distant howl; it’s not from any creature Din has ever heard before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world around him plays like a record on the wrong pitch. Recognizable, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Somewhere between reality and a dream. Din trips, stumbles, falls. He catches himself on his elbows, feet tangled in roots that definitely weren’t there a second ago. Din huffs and pushes himself up, gloves sticky with sap that sticks like dew to the blades of too-green grass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din takes a deep breath, heart beating too rapidly to be safe. He’s lost. Well and truly lost. The interference from the mass of trees causes his HUD to cut out in fractional bursts of static. Din is rendered blind by the glitch for microns of a second but it’s enough. Enough to be disorienting. Enough for his GPS to spin uselessly on his vambrace. Enough for Din to start panicking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had been warned not to venture too deep into the forest. Cautionary tales from the local village, waved off as paranoid gossip caused by lack of entertainment, come back to Din now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should have listened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should have stayed with the ship. He should have stayed with Corin and the child. He should have marked his trail as he walked the perimeter. He should have… he should have…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Din?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice floats on the air like it’s made from the wind itself. And maybe it is. Carried from miles and miles away, originating from beyond the wall of redwoods. Din follows it, unable to stop himself. Running towards any lead, any tether to the outside world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Din? Where are you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice comes from behind him, in front of him, to his right. Din spins, futilely chasing Corin’s panic that mirrors his own. He doesn’t know which direction he’s heading in. The sun gives no guide. He might be heading out, or he might be heading in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deeper, deeper, deeper. Until the sun spots are gone completely. Until mist rises from the roots of the towering trees and the creeping vines. Until fog conceals everything beyond a few feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Din!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din doesn’t know when he started running but his legs burn with the exertion, lungs heaving in the heavy air, feet pushing through the foliage that seems to nip at his heels. He chases the voice. His only life line out of this place. His only chance to return home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where did you go?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice is getting closer now, stronger, just beyond his grasp. If Din reaches out, his fingertips might just graze it. He stops, waiting to hear it again. Closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Din.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice is directly behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din spins on his heel and comes chest to chest with Corin. Relief like pure spice floods his system. He collapses against Corin’s chest and immediately the world around him seems to realign. Corin laughs, wrapping his arms around Din’s gasping shoulders. The sound is like a lullaby, easing Din from his mania and comforting him into trust. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got lost,” Corin’s voice says, chest rumbling under Din’s helmet. His hands run up and down the beskar backplate, reassuring, settling, grounding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din nods into Corin’s collarbone. Their armor clinks together with the movement. This contact is jumping over an unspoken line, but right now Din couldn’t care less. He needs a minute to gather himself. Luckily, Corin seems to understand. Soothing Din’s heart rate back to normal with gentle shushes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got lost,” Din says, repeating Corin’s words. Din’s mind starts to clear from the fog of panic. He becomes aware of himself, of how he’s clinging to Corin like a lifeline, of how this is definitely beyond the boundaries of their friendship. Din’s shoulder goes stiff, discomfort twisting his stomach. He straightens and pulls away from Corin’s hold. He looks down at the ground, cheeks burning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin lets him go, dropping his hands to his sides and standing up straight. “It’s a good thing I found you!” His voice is chipper, a wide smile clearly audible. Din frowns and looks up, wondering why Corin seemed so happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din jumps backwards at what he finds, landing hard on his back. He scrambles away, feet kicking out in front of him until his back hits a tree and he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>trapped. Trapped. Trapped. </span>
  </em>
  <span>As Corin takes a step forward, and then another, wide smile still stretching his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s not Corin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever that is, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> Corin.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It looks like Corin. It sounds like Corin. It even feels like Corin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Its hair is parted on the wrong side. Its smile shows too many teeth. Its clothes are spotless without even a speck of dirt on his sleeves or sap on his shoes. The glare on his armor is too bright, like painted plastic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And its eyes. Eyes which should be blue. Blue as a clear day on Naboo. Blue as the glacier fed lakes high in the mountains of Sorgan. Blue like the swirling methane gas giants orbiting a dying star. Blue like the color of home and everything Din has grown to love and let in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This monster’s eyes are white. Almost translucent like the fog that limits Din’s vision. Opaline, glittering and </span>
  <em>
    <span>blank</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Nothing but pure white. No iris. No pupil. No blue. Nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s tongue is lead in his mouth. His lungs frozen solid. His body paralyzed by pure terror and dread. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not</span>
  </em>
  <span> Corin takes a step closer. “What’s wrong?” It asks, head pitching to the side, hair flopping over its face in a way that might be adorable in any other circumstance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-your eyes,” Din stutters, hardly able to form the words. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” He keeps his back to the tree, knees protectively in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My eyes?” Not Corin’s head straightens, smile falling from its face. “They’re white. They’re supposed to be.” It takes another step forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Its voice sounds like Corin’s. Almost playful. Deceptively disarming. “Supposed to be?” Din swallows, never more grateful for his helmet. “You’re not Corin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not Corin smiles and holds out a hand. “Of course not. I’m your </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> Corin.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Against every instinct, Din takes it. Other Corin pulls him to his feet easily. Strength hidden in the fluid movement. It takes Din a moment to recollect himself. Curiosity winds itself around his mind like a snare, barbed into his brainstem. He’s speaking before he can stop himself. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Other</span>
  </em>
  <span> Corin?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The creature nods, a little too rapidly. “Yup!” It offers no further explanation. Din wants more. He wants to know what the hell this thing is and how, why, it’s imitating Corin. What’s the harm in talking? Din tells himself. It doesn’t seem hostile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lost,” Other Corin reminds. “Let’s get you back to the ship.” It sounds uncannily like the real Corin. Even down to the inner-rim lilt of his words that Corin had tried so hard to get rid of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The creatures offer to help, which Din knows could obviously be a trap, is almost enough to make Din relax. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din has never been one to shoot first and ask questions later. He had always viewed death as something that was better to be avoided at all costs rather than seen as the default solution. Maybe taking the form of a loved one was how this creature appeared to everyone. It’s not like it’s outside the realm of possibility. It definitely wouldn’t be the craziest thing Din has ever seen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He calms himself down, bit by bit, forcing away the instinct to assume the worst. Innocent until proven guilty and thus far, the alien had been nothing but kind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin holds out its, no </span>
  <em>
    <span>his,</span>
  </em>
  <span> hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din stares at it for a moment, but what can he do other than accept? He is lost. Without a guide. Without his GPS. His HUD is still randomly cutting out and the trees are too tall to climb to find the sun. This alien, whatever it is, is his only chance of leaving here alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din takes his hand. Other Corin laces their fingers together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is lead along, following willingly behind Other Corin like a wayward child. They walk in silence past a few trees before Din’s curiosity pushes his mouth into motion. “You seem to know your way around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin doesn’t stop walking, but he does turn his head slightly, a faint smile on his lips. “Of course I do! I live in these woods.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin is confident. Self-assured in a way the real Corin never is. His shoulders are back and his head is held high. He leads Din through the woods with capable steps that speak to an inherent trust in one's own actions. The real Corin is timid, shy, unsure of himself in every move he makes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a refreshing change of pace. Din swallows, almost guilty for thinking of it. He can feel his pulse thrum in his wrist where it’s pressed against Other Corin’s. Hands held together in a way that Din had never had the guts to initiate but Other Corin had offered so easily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows it’s not right. Not fair. Not rational. But Din can’t help in comparing the two. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some dark part of his mind almost prefers this version.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you taking me?” Din asks, though he already knows the answer. They’re going back to the ship. Other Corin is leading him out of the woods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To the ship. I know you’re going to want to see it. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Razor Crest</span>
  </em>
  <span> has never looked better,” Other Corin’s smile is sharp once more and yet his enthusiasm lulls Din into a false sense of security. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Other Corin wanted to hurt him, he would’ve by now. Right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din isn’t quite sure what Other Corin means, but he accepts it nonetheless with a growing suspicion this is nothing more than a dream, good or bad he can’t yet decide. Still, he wants to know more. “What do you mean? Did you do- </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The words die on Din’s lips as he’s led into a clearing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fog and mist stays behind the tree-line. The sun is beginning to set and golden sunlight sweeps over a meadow. The grass vibrant and waving with the light breeze that sweeps out from the forest. The land dips downward forming a natural bowl. Opposite of where they stand is a jagged edge in the otherwise soft caress of the hill. Boulders and rocks tumble in a cliff face, an isolated blip in the seamless wave of grass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin comes to a stop at Din’s side and does not drop his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Near the large outcropping of rocks, the Razor Crest sits proudly. Gleaming and shining with new polish and a fresh coat of laquer. The hull looks brand new, rivets unrusted, sheet metal unbent. The transparisteel cockpit is uncracked. The engines are in one piece. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s beautiful. Gorgeous like Din has never seen her. Even when he had bought her, several years used, she had never looked this good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walks forward without instructing his feet to do so. His gloved fingers slide over the metal. His other hand is still intertwined with the Other’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beautiful isn’t it? I knew you’d like it,” Other Corin says, pulling Din from his reverie. “I’m always right about the things that you like.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din nods, thinking of the way his Corin fixes kaff perfectly and buys sugar-sweet candies to slip onto the dinner plate he leaves in the cockpit for Din. “Yes you are,” Din says, talking about another man on another ship with blue eyes instead of white.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin beams under the compliment, smile nearly splitting his face, opaline eyes squinting. “Come. You’ll want to see the inside.” All it takes is a gentle tug and Din is following the Other up the ramp and into the ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din knows for sure this is a dream when he sees the renovated cargo hold. It’s everything Din has ever wanted taken straight from the list he drew up years ago and tucked away forever. Things he could never upgrade when he had an obligation, a duty, to the foundlings. His tribe needed food and that came before anything he may have wanted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kitchenette has brand new appliances from a luxury starcruiser. The carbonite freezer is upgraded and expanded. His old bunk is replaced by an expanded armory that takes up almost the entire wall, filled to the brim with every weapon he’s ever envied. He even sees the hilt of a lightsaber and makes a silent promise to himself to come back to that later. The kid’s room has expanded, the bed inside soft and filled with all the toys the child wanted but Din couldn’t afford. The refresher is spacious and lined with new heated tiling, even going so far as to have a stand-up shower that uses real water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din can only describe it as luxurious, mouth agape at the sight. It hardly looks like the same ship. Other Corin isn’t finished. “There’s more I want you to see.” He tugs Din out of his stupor and towards the ladder that leads to the cockpit. Din drops Other Corin’s hand only because he needs both hands to climb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s heart skips a beat when he reaches the top. Even in a dream, it still takes him by surprise. It all feels so real. When he moves beside Dn, Other Corin doesn’t hesitate to take his hand once more even though there is no real need. Din gently squeezes his hand and smiles to himself, unashamed now that he realizes it’s all a dream. It must be. This could never be real. Corin could never want him like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like it.” Other Corin says. A statement, not a question. Din nods helplessly. Eyes roaming over the state-of-the-art navigational system, upgraded hyperdrive interface, holographic controls, fine tuned manual flight controls, newest AI autopilot software, and of course, new hyper cannons. Top of the line and the heaviest gunnery the Crest could service. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din laughs. Almost hysterical. This is… too much. It’s too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet there’s more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One last thing,” Other Corin adds and gently redirects Din to what used to be storage and an engine room behind the cockpit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door swings open to reveal a lavish bedroom. Fine silks and a thick rug. A massive bed, big enough for two, three, four people, piled with pillows and blankets and furs. There’s a dresser hand carved from beautiful hardwood, an expansive mirror, and an ensuite refresher. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin pulls Din towards the bed. He’s helpless to obey. Being drawn in a trance towards the man who resembles the one he loves. He could never deny Corin anything, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>Other</span>
  </em>
  <span> Corin either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sleep,” Other Corin coaxes. “You’ve had a long day. Let me hold you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din nods, letting himself be led to lay on the bed, sinking into the cushions and pillows and blankets. His eyes are already growing heavy, his muscles lax, his bones like lead. He’s not quite sure why he’s falling asleep within a dream, but the feeling of Corin curled up in his arms, real or not, is enough to drag him under. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be back tomorrow,” Other Corin promises. White eyes staring up into his visor. It almost sounds like a threat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din wakes up in his bunk on the Razor Crest to the sound of a screaming kid and Corin desperately trying to calm him down. The child kicks out of Corin’s grasp and races across the cargo hold to Din’s bunk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry!” Corin apologizes in a loud whisper. “I’m so sorry! I tried to keep him calm but he just- I-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din waves him off, rubbing a hand over his helmet. He reaches down for his son, grabbing him gently under his arms and setting him on the bunk beside him. “What’s wrong with you, huh?” Din ruffles the kid’s sparse peach fuzz. “You hungry, womp rat?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The child’s lip trembles, eyes still filled with tears though the wailing has stopped. He doesn’t respond to the offer of food and instead ducks his head under Din’s arm, trying to bury himself closer to his father’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up with you, huh Ad’ika?” Din rumbles, giving him the comfort he so obviously needs. His hands are gentle as he rubs across the child’s back and across his ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din looks up at Corin who shuffles on his feet under the attention. Din gets a suddenly sharp reminder of his dream, of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>other,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a Corin that wasn’t so timid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He- Um- I don’t know.” Corin sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He’s been like this since you left to check the perimeter yesterday. I couldn’t get him to settle. He cried himself to sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din feels guilt jerk his stomach to his feet. How long had he been gone? Why doesn’t he remember coming back? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of Din wants to reach out to take Corin’s hand, he can almost feel the weight of it in his grasp, but his mind catches up before his hand can act out. Din turns his focus back to the kid who has fallen asleep against his chest. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, Ad’ika.” He leans down to gently press his helmet against the top of the child’s head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When did you come back? I didn’t see you come in. I stayed up as long as I could but-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din cuts off Corin’s rambles by reaching out to touch his arm, gloved thumb in the crook of his elbow. “You don’t need to apologize, Corin. If anything, this is my fault.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The child doesn’t stir at all as Din gets up from the bed. He’s eye level with Corin, searching those baby blues for any hint of something deeper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din comes up empty handed. Wishing for more and falling short each time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din lets out a deep sigh and makes his way to the refresher, knees creaking from sleeping on the old bunk. If only the bed from his dreams was real. If only Other Corin was real too. The confidence had been such a refreshing change of pace. Even in his dream Din could feel the pride in the way Other Corin had held himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din shakes out his head to clear the thoughts, holding the child fast to his chest. It doesn’t do to dwell on dreams, even ones that had felt so real. The best he could hope for is a continuation later that night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Checking the perimeter was routine. It was something Din did on every planet regardless of who, or what, was around them. When they spent nights on the Razor Crest instead of an inn, the alien planet was only an inch of sheet metal away at any time. Keeping watch and staying vigilant was critical for the safety of his family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least, that’s what Din tells himself as he suits up. Routine, necessary, important. There is no other reason why he would go wandering into the woods. None at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin watches him uneasily. The child resting on his hip. He bites his lip and his free hand fidgets with the loose seam on his shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din drops his boot, half laced up. “What? Spit it out,” he huffs. Immediately feeling guilty at the way Corin’s face falls at his tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I just was wondering when you would be back. I didn’t even see you come in last night.” Corin bites at his finger nail. Din wants to stop him but stays silent. “You… you will come back, right? For the kid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll be back tomorrow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din shakes the Other’s voice from his mind. “Of course,” He says, patient as ever. “And for you too.” It isn’t what he really wants to say, but it’s all he can get away with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guilt twists his stomach for even thinking of the Other</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yet it’s impossible not to compare them. Not to be sharply reminded of how different the Other was. He hates himself for preferring it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din pushes the thoughts from his mind and heads off to check the perimeter, leaving Corin behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din knows it was a dream. He knows this. And yet his feet lead him back before Din even realizes where he’s going. He finds himself far from the perimeter when his feet finally stop at the edge of the woods. He could turn back now, could still go back to the Crest before he got hopelessly lost once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Din has to know if it was all real. He has to know why he can’t stop thinking about it. He needs answers. He needs proof.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he steps into the forest, it is a conscious decision. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin isn’t hard to find. Din knows the Other was looking for him as well. They meet somewhere in the middle. Deep into the woods yet before the beginnings of mist that narrows the world down to five feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din takes a step forward and can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. The Other. As though it had been right next to him for the entire trip. And maybe it has been. Watching, waiting, following. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other Corin makes itself visible, stepping around a tree and smiling at Din. Lips stretched too thin. Cheeks pulled back too far. Eyes soulless and blank. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you would come back to me,” The Other Corin says. He holds out his hand for Din to take. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a moment of hesitation. Din shouldn’t do this. He knows he shouldn’t. By taking Other Corin’s hand he would be acknowledging that this isn’t just a dream. That this isn’t just a hallucination brought out by his deepest desires. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would go back in the morning. What harm could a few hours do? Just a moment to indulge, to pretend this was all real. To forget the guilt and the hiding and the running. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din has denied himself everything his entire life. But maybe he can have this. Just this once...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din takes Other Corin’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin doesn’t hesitate to pull him close, wrapping his arms around Din’s waist. “You missed me,” he says, setting his forehead against Din’s helmet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not a question but Din responds anyway. “Of course I did.” He hates himself for the way his body instinctively leans into the touch. Settling back against the heat of his hands and pressing up into the kiss. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend it’s real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come, Riduur,”  The Other says, pulling away and leading Din by their intertwined hands. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din digs his heels into the sticky grass. They jerk to a halt. His mouth is dry. His entire world has stopped spinning. Heart beating too rapidly and not beating at all. Din can’t breathe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin stops and frowns, turning back in concern. His head tilts to the side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din has to clear his throat several times to get it to work. “W-What did you just call me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin smiles more brightly than the sun glinting off his beskar pauldron. “Riduur. You want me to call you Riduur, I know you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s hand tightens where it’s held in the Other’s grasp. Clinging onto something, anything, to ground himself. “I’ve wanted to hear you say that since I met you,” He admits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s something he would never dare to say to the real Corin. It’s almost easier to speak, to pour his heart out, when there aren’t piercing blue eyes to judge him. Eyes that see too much and too little. Blue eyes that Din fell in love with and yet they’re the same ones that haunt him. The ones that will never look at him in the way he so desperately craves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the boundless white of Other Corin’s eyes mirror Din’s emotions. Reciprocation and love and adoration. There is confidence there that Din wants to see in the real Corin’s eyes. But for now, he can settle for this. Just for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din takes several steps forward, pressing his helmet to Other Corin’s forehead once more. “Say it again?” He asks before he can stop himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>“Riduur.”</em> The Other’s hands come up to clutch at Din’s waist. “Mine.” His words are possessive, jealous, fingers digging in harshly to punctuate his point. “You’re mine. Not anyone else’s.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din heaves in a breath, eyes burning. He nods slowly, trying to pull himself back together. “I’m yours.” It feels like he’s swearing away his life, but if it’s to Corin, he would give everything he has in a heartbeat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin pulls away from the embrace first. He doesn’t bother to offer his hand but instead he grabs Din’s hand and laces their fingers together once more without asking. “Come. They’re waiting. We can’t be late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walk through the forest hand in hand. The trees get thicker. The sunlight from high above is blotted out by dense leaves until it’s hardly visible at all. The mist begins to roll in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is glad for his guide. He would never make it out of these woods alone. He tries to keep track of where they’ve been, but the trees quickly blur together and when they disappear into the fog it’s completely hopeless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, Din’s brain catches up to what the Other had said. “Who’s waiting? There are others?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin nods and tosses a smile over his shoulder. He side steps around a tree, knowing exactly where it was without even needing to look. “Yes. Only two Others today. I don’t want to overwhelm you. You can meet the rest tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tomorrow?” Din asks, unsure if they were going to stay that long. He had already extended their pit stop an extra day. Another would set them behind schedule. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Tomorrow,” The Other says, stopping for a moment and looking Din directly in his visor. Din is sharply reminded of how his Corin can barely meet his eyes sometimes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din can see how serious this Other is. How those white eyes sharpen from clouds to crystals. “You’re coming back tomorrow too.” There is no room for argument. A slight unease builds in Din’s gut but he pushes it away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he smiles. Even behind the helmet Din knows Other Corin can sense it. He pulls their clasped hands up to his helmet, pressing thin knuckles against a beskar cheek. “Of course,” Din reassures. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin’s reaction is immediate, anger disappearing in a flash. “Good!” His voice is cheery once more. He tugs Din along, grip on his hand just a little too tight. “Hurry. We’re not far now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re both silent until they break the clearing. The meadow appears exactly as it had the day before. A setting sun, a better-than-new ship, and the outcropping of rocks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only thing that has changed is the new table carved into the rock like it had been there all along. There is a man sitting there but Din doesn’t have time to register who it is before there is something tackling his legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buir! Up! Up!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tiny claws tap against his shin brace. Din crouches down to see the child. For a split second, he’s absolutely horrified. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Big brown doe eyes replaced with a nebulous swirl of whites. Almost transparent. Green skin just a touch too pale. Normally nubbed teeth sharpened to near fangs. Claws that aren’t sharp enough to break skin made to look like razor edged talons. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is not his son. His child. His foundling. This is… something </span>
  <em>
    <span>else</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something wrong and twisted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then the child is cooing and holding out his hands and the moment of fear falls away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buir!” The child smiles and insistently holds up its hands in the universal request to be held. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din chuckles and runs a gloved finger over paper-thin ears. “Look at you, little womp rat. We’re all in trouble now. I doubt we’ll never be able to get you to stop talking, huh?” He pulls the child into his arms and stands up, holding him close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope!” The child shakes his head, ears flopping. “Excited for Buir! Other Buir talked about you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to hold Din’s hand, Other Corin settles for the small of Din’s back. Just under his backplate. The only real vulnerable part in his armor. His hand presses against the fabric. It’s icy cold yet it sends heat radiating like wildfire across Din’s skin. It takes Din a considerable amount of effort to ignore the way it makes him feel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh did he?” Din asks, hanging onto every word. He could listen to the Other child talk for hours. Hearing him call him Buir. Having Corin accept his role as the child’s other parent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt so surreal. Everything Din had ever wanted. The three of them together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup.” The Other child nods. “He said you were going to stay. Buir stays!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin chuckles and brushes a gentle hand over the child’s head. “Buir </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> stay.” He looks up at Din with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s stomach flips. “Of course,” he says, words sounding flat even to himself. He can’t disappoint the kid. But he can’t stay either. He has a real life with his real child. As much as Din would like to stay, to make this his reality, he just can’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come,” Other Corin insists. The hand on Din’s low back becomes insistent, pushing him forward into the clearing. “Paz is here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s head whips up and darts around before his eyes settle on the man sitting at the table. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>helmetless</span>
  </em>
  <span> man at the table. “Uh, that’s Paz?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Your Other Paz.” Other Corin pushes again, almost causing Din to stumble as he takes several steps forward. He clings to the child and leans back into the hand behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Paz waves, smile lighting up his face. “Vod!” He calls, and motions for Din to join him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din swallows, not quite knowing how to feel. He keeps his eyes down, not wanting to see something that is supposed to be hidden. Something the real Paz would die before he let happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He keeps his eyes down as he sits on the stone bench across from Other Paz, child on his lap. He can’t look up. He won’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guilt stirs low in his stomach. Other Corin sits next to him and Din is grateful for the steadying hand on his backplate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So many red flags. Din should’ve seen it, should’ve been long gone. But he can’t leave now. Not without a guide. This isn’t right. This isn’t his Paz. This isn’t the Way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s mind races. There’s an uncomfortable silence that falls over the table. Not even the talkative child manages to speak. Predictably, Other Corin is the one to break it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tea?” He offers, steaming mug appearing from seemingly nowhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s free hand instinctively curls around the warmth emanating from the cup. He suddenly realizes how cold he feels, how he hadn’t noticed it until the lack of heat was made apparent, until he had felt something real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shiver runs down his spine, and he almost feels like it wasn’t from the cold at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din smiles up at Other Corin in thanks. The tea will do nothing except sit there and grow cold, but the gesture is appreciated. Din tries not to think about how the real Corin would’ve given him the privacy to drink it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paz.” Other Corin’s hand clenches into a fist where it rests on the stone table. “Why don’t you tell Din about the Covert?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din sees Other Paz sit up a little straighter out of the corner of his eye. He does not look up to meet his bare face while he talks. He can’t. Instead, Din focuses on his cup of tea, spinning the dark liquid around and around until it nearly spills over the lip of the porcelain mug. The child stays unnaturally complacent and silent in his lap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh it’s amazing, Vod. You would love it,” Other Paz’s voice drips with saccharine enthusiasm. It’s so far from Paz’s usual sarcasm and snark that it’s hard to believe the two were meant to be the same person. “We are thriving. There’s no need to live in secret anymore. We can set aside our weapons. We are free to live life as we wish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s hand tightens around his mug. “And you wished to become </span>
  <em>
    <span>dar’manda</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He doesn’t try to keep the venom from his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wished to walk above ground without a target on my back,” Other Paz explains patiently. No retaliation. No anger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cup violently clinks against the saucer plate. Din wants Other Paz to get angry, lash out, to punch that stupid out-of-place grin from his bare face. Din knows how to deal with Paz’s temper, not his placidity. He had always wanted Paz to be a little nicer, to respect him a little more, but not like this. Din opens his mouth but is cut off before he can take a breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is better this way.” Other Corin ends the argument before it ever begins. “The covert is happy, safe. Because of you, Din.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand rubs soothingly over Din’s back. Din pointedly does not think about how good it feels, how the press of his thumb sends heat into the pit of his stomach, how the brush of fingertips over his waistband causes sparks to fly across his skin, how the piercing eye contact only makes the dryness in his throat so much worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The child looks up with a quiet coo, ears still. His small clawed hand reaches out for Din’s vambrace that is wrapped around him. Din gives the kid a gentle pass over his peach-fuzz and turns his attention back to the conversation. He had almost forgotten the womp-rat was there he had been so quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because of me?” Din asks confused, looking to Other Corin. What had he done to cause the entire covert to abandon their way of life? Other Corin smiles at him, settling him with a single gesture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The beskar you brought in was worth millions. We’ve never been better. The foundlings are spoiled. We have supplies and funds to last us lifetimes. All thanks to you!” Other Paz explains, hands waving animatedly in Din peripheral vision. He still refuses to look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time, the Other child speaks up. “I remember the beskar!” The Other Corin‘s attention snaps down to the kid. The look he gives could boil water yet the smile on his face grows impossibly wider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din moves his attention to his Other Ad’ika, turning the child in his lap. “Buir murdered many bounty hunters!” The Other says happily, ears twitching up in glee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s heart sinks, shatters. His blood runs cold. His breath stills in his chest. “You remember that?” What else did the child remember? What other horrors could his son tell? Fifty years was a long time at the mercy of bounty hunters and imperial lackies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other child nods, ears flopping as he did. “Yup! I was very cold before Buir came. But then you rescued me. Traded me in for beskar.” Dins hands start shaking. “I was so scared but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you would come. Even when they poked me with needles and took blood and made me cry and-“ </span>
</p>
<p><span>Other Corin sets a hand on the child’s leg. “</span><em><span>That’s</span></em> <em><span>enough</span></em><span>,” he says, voice like the ice that has impaled itself into Din’s stomach. The child freezes immediately and doesn’t move a muscle for the rest of the evening. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Din swallows. Tries to get himself under control. The Other child continues to smile up at him. Eyes wide and empty. Smile crowded with sharp teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Paz,” Other Corin quickly redirects. “Tell Din about the Others.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Paz nods and starts talking, spinning tales of happy days and happier nights. Singing and laughing and drinking while the foundlings sleep soundly knowing there isn’t a single worry in the world. Din hangs onto every word, trying to picture a world where his family could be that carefree. It doesn’t seem possible after a lifetime of poverty and struggle. But maybe here, maybe with the Others, peace could be Din’s reality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin reaches out to take Din’s hand. “You're going to the covert tomorrow. You will see it all then.” He lifts Din’s hand to press a gentle kiss to each of the knuckles, looking up into the t-visor as he does so. “Just know that you are the cause for their happiness. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All of this,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Other Corin makes a wide gesture to the rest clearing and the Razor Crest, “is just for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their hands stay clasped together.  “Leave, Paz.” He says, never breaking eye contact. “Din will see you tomorrow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Paz stands from the table and holds out his hand to Din. “Ret'urcye mhi, Vod.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Din a moment before he can manage to reach out and grab Other Paz’s forearm. When he does, he looks up at his face. Short cropped brown hair, wide jaw, strong nose. Other Paz is handsome. Yet, it’s a face Din never wanted to see. It feels like betrayal, even when he’s looking up into clouded eyes instead of normal ones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s too long before Din can manage to speak. “Ret’.” It’s all he can manage before he drops Other Paz’s hand and looks down at the table once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Other Paz leaves, wandering off beyond the tree line, so does an undefinable weight from Din’s shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go to bed,” Other Corin suggests, voice low and laced with something Din’s not sure he wants to define. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din nods, helpless to do anything else. He doesn’t know how to feel about the way Other Corin is looking at him. Devouring him. Pulling him in with a gentle lick of his lips. Din feels heat pooling where it should not be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go to your room, Ad’ika. Now.” Other Corin pulls the child from Din’s lap and sets him on the ground. The child complies without even a moment of hesitation. Toddling over to the ship and up the ramp, not stopping once to chase a bug or play with the grass. Din watches, hypnotized by the odd behavior. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin hooks a finger under the edge of his helmet and jerks it to face him. “Eyes on me, big boy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And kriff if that isn’t hot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s breath is already coming in shallow gasps, unprepared for the sudden shift in tone. Other Corin gives him no time to recover before he’s lifting a knee and swinging it over to brace Din’s thighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instinctively, Din’s hands grip at Other Corin’s hips to steady himself. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, how to react. This isn’t right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other Corin must feel his hesitancy. “What’s wrong? Am I not attractive?” It’s not a question but a hook for Din to bite. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din takes the bait, always would, always jumping to reassure Corin of any insecurity. The praise comes naturally to his lips. “Of course you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin smiles, leaning forward to brush his cheek against the side of Din’s helmet. Close enough that Din can feel the heart beat in the Other’s chest, slow and steady, where his own is a rapid staccato. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me I’m pretty,” Other Corin whispers against the beskar, breath ghosting across Din’s cowl, a flick of heat racing down Din’s spine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din can barely breathe, let alone think, over the </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> that presses against his zipper. “You… you’re gorgeous, Corin.” His voice is breathless, hands pulling on Corin’s waist trying to get him that much closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other Corin preens under the flattery, letting out a low moan. He kisses against the cowl, a thin barrier of fabric away from where Din so desperately wanted him. “I know I am, but I love to hear you say it. Again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“F-fuck,” Din stutters out, Other Corin’s words acting like pure adrenaline. Other Corin rolls his hips forward and heat like molten lava pools in Din gut. He didn’t know he liked this. The brattiness, the teasing, the confidence. It’s nice but this is beyond that. This is cocky. This isn’t Corin. This isn’t right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The uncertainty nags at him, but Din continues nonetheless. He doesn’t want this to end. “You’re beautiful, Cyare. You make the stars jealous.” Din can’t help the pet name that slips from his lips, having wanted to call Corin that for ages. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to say so much. To use every pet name, to sing every praise, to whisper every sweet nothing. To brush his hands through soft hair and tuck it behind an ear. To leave easy kisses across chiseled cheekbones. He wants slow and sweet and </span>
  <em>
    <span>love.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wants that with Corin. His Corin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This feels like he’s burning from the inside out. Like Other Corin is setting him on fire and holding the water just out of reach. It’s too much too soon. It’s bruising and rough and needy and intense in every way Din never knew he liked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s not right. It’s not what he wants. It’s not what he needs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin gives another heavy roll of his hips, nipping at the cover of Din’s cowl. Din’s fingers are steel vices pulling him back. He pushes the Other Corin off of his lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t right.” Din’s voice is a gasp of air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin huffs in frustration. Anger tensing his shoulders. “I know you want me. I know you want this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din doesn’t want to argue. He can’t even deny it. Not when the evidence is visible in the tightness of his jeans. “It’s just not right, Corin.” He doesn’t look up, he can’t bear to see the anger on the Other’s face, the disappointment he might find there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin stands. “Fine. Go to sleep. I don’t need you,” he grumbles and stalks off towards the ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din sighs and leans forward, head in his hands, elbows braced on the table. It takes a while for his breathing to even out and his pulse to return back to normal. His thoughts race, and guilt threatens to drown him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he gets himself together, the sun has set and darkness closes in around him. The forest, which had been a barrier before, shifts to a towering threat. The circle of sloping hills is an obstacle keeping him confined. He’s surrounded on every side by dangerous shadows and alien creatures. Anything could be waiting for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s only option is to go inside the Other Razor Crest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as he doesn’t want to, he must. Din leaves the stone table and crosses the small gap of meadow. He’s never felt more exposed in his life than he does in those scant few seconds surrounded by open fields and the encroaching tree line. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does not slam the bay door behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other Child’s room is closed and locked when Din passes it, but he double checks to make sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels weird to walk past the renovated rooms. He still does a double take when he climbs the ladder into the cockpit. Din’s hand hovers over the doorknob to the bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin will be in there, Din knows he must be. What will he say? How will he react? Din almost considers just sleeping downstairs in the bunk before he remembers that it’s not there anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opens and Din finds Other Corin sitting up in bed, dressed in soft fine clothing, reading a datapad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you’d come find me.” Other Corin does not look up from his book. “Come sleep, Riduur. You’re tired.” He pats the open space next to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din still stands unmoving in the doorway. He stands there long enough that Other Corin looks up and cocks an eyebrow at him. “You can’t stand there all night. Come. Rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din swallows and then complies, moving to take off his armor and then pauses and decides to keep it on. He can see the way Other Corin frowns, but Din pretends not to notice. He climbs into bed, and Other Corin settles down next to him, putting away the data pad and clicking off the light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin pushes himself into Din’s space, cuddling up to him as though nothing had happened. He forces his leg between Din’s and pushes his arm around Din’s waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going to the covert tomorrow,” Other Corin reminds him. “You will find me earlier than you did today.” It is not a request but a demand. Din almost considers not coming back at all, but when Other Corin sighs contentedly and pulls him a little closer, he knows he will never be able to stay away from this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Corin,” He promises. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din falls asleep with Other Corin tucked into his chest wishing he was back in his own ship with his own family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is well past morning when Din is dragged into awareness. He feels groggy, a heavy fog weighing him down and dragging him back towards sleep, but the incessant shaking of his shoulders keeps him awake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Din? Din! Oh thank the maker!” Corin lets out a small relieved laugh. “You wouldn’t wake up. I’ve been trying all morning. We’ve both been worried sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din grumbles and sits up, rubbing a hand over his helmet. His head pounds as though he had drank too much the night before. What exactly had happened? It all felt blurry now, off key. Like it wasn’t quite real. But it definitely was. Din has the little claw marks from the Other Child sitting on his thigh to prove it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Din’s voice is ashen in his mouth. “Must’ve been more tired than I thought.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When did you come back in?” Corin asks. “I tried to wait up for you but I fell asleep around four.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure.” Din looks around the hull. “Where’s Ad’ika?” He looks back up at Corin, those blue eyes still watching him with worry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He, um,” Corin swallows. “He’s having a bad day. Cried all night again after you left. He’s been inconsolable. I’m surprised he didn’t wake you up with his screaming at six this morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That didn’t answer Din’s question. Corin was never one to beat around the bush. The avoidance made Din more anxious than he already was. “Where is he?” Din asks again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin rubs at the back of his neck, his eyes cast down and away. “He’s hiding. Ran off after another tantrum. He’s up in the storage room and I can’t get him to come down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That's why you came to wake me up,” Din pieces together. “How long has he been up there?” He moves to stand from the bunk, stretching out his stiffness as he goes. He really needed to stop sleeping in his armor. That had to be the reason for the ache in his joints, there’s no other explanation for why he feels so awful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin takes a step back. “Almost an hour. You wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t know what to do Din I- I thought-” his voice kicks up a notch, the worry becoming more apparent with every word. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m alright, Corin, just tired,” Din brushes him off. He makes a motion towards the now unoccupied bunk. “So are you. Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll watch the kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Corin nods, eyes drooping at the mere suggestion of sleep. He immediately takes a seat on the edge of the bunk. Blue eyes anxiously flit up to the visor and then back down to the floor before settling on Din once more. “Do you know when we’ll be leaving today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din pauses, heart catching in his throat. “Um, what do you think about one more night? No reason to rush off.” Din is lying. To himself. To Corin. But he could never admit the truth when it sounded so selfish to even think about the real reason behind their delay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin looks down and picks at his nails. He doesn’t argue or protest, submitting to Din’s will without even the smallest complaint. Yet he doesn’t seem to agree either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s frustrating. After the amount of patience and effort Din has exerted trying to make Corin understand how welcome he was. After having a taste of what real confidence could be like. Din clenches his jaw and tries not to let the irritation show.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it, Corin? Speak freely.” Din’s voice is harsher than he intends. Corin winces slightly and his shoulders raise to protect his ears. The guilt doubles onto itself and festers. Why couldn’t Corin be more like the Other? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just-” Corin sighs and looks up at Din’s visor, defeat written in the hands that lay limp on his lap. “I don’t like this place. It’s bad luck. The kid hasn’t stopped crying and you’re out late and-” Corin waves a hand and fakes a smile. “But it doesn’t matter, right? We’re leaving tomorrow and everything will be back to normal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din swallows. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to go back to normal after having a taste of everything he could ever want. “Sleep, Corin,” Din says, moving towards the ladder. “Don’t worry so much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Din nearly an hour to coax the child out from behind one of the crates of supplies. It's filled with force knows what, and it’s much too heavy for Din to move. The crack between it and the wall is hardly wider than Din’s fist yet the little womp rat had managed to squeeze himself far back, way out of arm's reach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you just come here!” Din growls, frustration boiling over. “Why won’t you ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen</span>
  </em>
  <span>? The Other kid listens perfectly and you-!” Din cuts himself off, words coming to a screeching halt as he realizes what he’d said. He never meant to yell. Never meant to-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid starts to wail again, hiccuping sobs echoing in the room and grating against Din’s ears. “Ad’ika, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” But Din knows it’s not true even as he says it. He did mean it. That’s why the kid had felt it, had reacted the way he did. Because Din </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> wish the kid was more obedient. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> wish he could talk. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s frustration turns onto himself. His anger grating against his own nerves. He wants to cry or punch something. So he leaves the room before he does either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin climbs quickly up the ladder, hair mused from sleep and eyes red from lack of it. Din wants to run his fingers through the soft black hair, wants to pull Corin into a hug and never let go. But he can’t. And the reminder is all the more painful when he’s had a glimpse of what it could be like for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What's wrong?” Corin asks, pressing his ear against the closed door. His eyes are filled with concern. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din takes a deep breath. “I need a walk.” He starts to make his way down the ladder. He feels a jerk against his pauldron. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin fingers dig under the beskar, pleading, desperate. “Wait what?” Corin’s voice is near hysterical. “You’re leaving again? You just got back; I </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> fell asleep.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din swallows and looks away, his own eyes burning. “I need a walk.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din doesn’t pretend to deny where he’s going. He doesn’t tell himself it’s a dream or an accident. He walks straight into the wood and keeps walking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like before, Other Corin appears out of thin air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din wastes no time in wrapping Other Corin up in a hug. He lets out a sigh, helmet resting heavily on the Other’s steady shoulder. He feels a wide smile break out against the thin fabric on his collarbones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re happy to see me,” Other Corin says, muffled by Din’s shirt. He leaves a quick kiss and then straightens. He grabs Din by the wrist and leads him back through the forest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re visiting the Covert today, right?” Din asks, letting the anxiety and fears and stress fall away in favor of following the Other Corin. It’s so nice to have someone else in charge for a change. To relax and let someone else be responsible for the world falling to shit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the world here doesn’t collapse. Doesn’t crumble. It’s steady and peaceful and there’s nothing Din has to worry about. Because Corin is in charge, as he should be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. You’re going to like it.” The Other’s voice is commanding, leaving no room for argument even if Din wanted to, which he doesn’t. The hand around his wrist grips that much tighter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din hardly notices the shift, wrapped up in the fantasy that’s been created for him. They quickly make their way through the woods, reaching the clearing in record time. The mist seems to part for them making it easier to navigate through the maze of trees and overgrown underbrush. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It occurs to Din that maybe Other Corin was taking the long way the entire time. Apprehension bleeds into Din’s thoughts but he pushes it away. He just wants to focus on the Other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They reach a point in the woods where the mist starts to recede. Other Corin pushes aside a branch of foliage to reveal the familiar meadow, though it’s changed so much in only a few hours that Din can hardly describe it as familiar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Razor Crest still sits in the corner but the jutting outcrop of rocks has morphed into a serrated entry way. An open door descending down into the deep dark. At the front, stand two sentries guarding their dungeon, but they make no motion to stop the bustle of people moving in and out of the cave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mandalorians. Dozens of them. Known armor and unknown faces. They move across the meadow which has been transformed into a market square. Foundlings run to and fro without a single care in the world. They chase and laugh and their playing screams are a little too real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look how happy they are.” Other Corin motions with his hand. “All because of you. They adore you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din had felt like an outsider in his own covert for most of his life. After the siege of Mandalore and the reformation of the clans, he had never quite fit in. Mostly due to his own faults. But growing up, taking the creed, coming into himself, he had always wanted to feel accepted. To be one of them. He had always hoped that maybe if he had provided enough, and given enough, and denied himself enough, one day he would truly be a Mandalorian. Not just an orphaned foundling imitating the creedborns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Here, Din could finally be a member of his own tribe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But as Din looks around, seeing almost every member of the tribe and Corin standing confidently by his side, he realizes something is missing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s Ad’ika?” Din knows he probably just overlooked him. It’s easy to do. The little guy was much faster than he looked and his tiny frame made it easy to hide in plain sight. But as his eyes scan the meadow once more, the growing silence from the Other manifests into a ball at the pit of Din’s stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din turns enough to throw Other Corin a glance out of the corner of his eye. “Where’s the kid?” He asks, a little more forcefully this time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had the Other done?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other Corin gives a dazzling smile. For the first time, Din sees how hollow it truly is, how it never reaches his eyes, how there's too many teeth crowded into it. “I sent him off to live with the Jedi,” the Other explains. “He needed proper training. You can’t give him that. We only want the best for him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din wants to be angry, wants to be upset that the Other had made such a big decision without him, but instead he feels numb, cold, and empty. “He’s gone?” Din didn’t doubt that Other Corin had actually done it. Din knows his son, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> son, isn’t coming back, but the question slips out anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. It is better this way. You know it is.” Other Corin’s eyes narrow, but the smile stays firmly on his face, not even twitching, as though nothing had ever happened and the child had never existed. “Let’s go meet the covert.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is dragged along by his wrist down into the meadow. He follows, somewhat reluctantly, boots catching on the foliage that never seemed to get in the way before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they walk through the meadow, Other Corin leads Din quickly through the maze of stalls heading directly for the entrance of the cave. They don’t stop or slow down for Din to even say hello. People wave and greet them as they pass, happier than ever now that Din is with them. Some of them even cheer at Din’s long-awaited arrival. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While their apparent joy and contentment fills Din’s heart with a fulfillment he never knew existed, the ever present wrongness sits in the swirling abyss of each of their eyes. And, of course, Din keeps coming back to the fact that he shouldn’t be able to see their eyes at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a nagging in the back of his mind. An itch under his skin that he can’t scratch. A hyper awareness of every movement he’s making. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din wants to run. No, no he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> to run. He needs to get the hell out of here before it’s too late. He doesn’t know the way, but it doesn’t matter. Death in the woods would be better than whatever lies inside of that dark tunnel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here to see the Alor,” Other Corin announces to the guard on the right. Din only vaguely recognizes his face, the years shaping it and wearing it down from the bright-eyed kid he used to know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din tilts his head to the side, the ruddy complexion was still the same, the bright red hair, the blunt crooked nose. “Barthor?” But his freckles are too prominent, almost painted on. When he blinks, it’s a heartbeat too slow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Din!” Barthor’s voice is chipper, just like the hand he slaps on Din’s shoulder. “Welcome home, we’ve all been waiting for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin tries to pull Din into the tunnel causing Barthor’s hand to slip, but this time Din stands his ground. He wants to talk to at least one person he recognizes. Since they had known each other as children, it doesn’t feel quite so wrong to see his face. The too-happy attitude that everyone seemed to have wasn’t so out of place with Other Barthor. For the first time since he’s been here, Din has found something familiar. Something that actually reminds him of home. He wants half a minute to talk, is that too much to ask? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently it is. The hand gripping his wrist gets tighter, the urging more insistent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din asks his questions before Other Corin can stop him. “How have you been? How are your foundlings?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In response, Other Barthor claps a hand on his shoulder again, an exact mimic of the motion he had made not seconds earlier. “Hey Din! Welcome home, we’ve all been waiting for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din chuckles, confused, helmet tilting to the side. “What?” He doesn’t understand. Why had he-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s time to go.” Other Corin jerks Din’s arm with a surprising amount of strength. Din trips and nearly falls with the way Other Corin is quite literally pulling him into the dark tunnel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Din a moment to regain his footing but when he does he has to nearly jog to keep up with the fast pace Other Corin has set. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they’re into the foyer, Din can see the darkness in the doorway was nothing but a facade. The cavern opens into a massive common room with hallways branching out in every direction. There’s colorful streamers hanging from the rafters and traditional music being played by someone somewhere in the bustle of movement that surrounds them.The support beams holding up the rock hewn roof are wrapped in spiraling brains woven from traditionally dyed cloth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone Din only vaguely recognizes walks past drinking tihaar from a helmet. He turns at the sudden cheering coming from a group in the corner playing cu'bikad. The scent of heavy spices drifts in and Din’s stomach gives an involuntary rumble. He hadn’t had real tiingilar in years. In fact, he hadn’t even seen a happy gathering of Mandalorians together like this since before the siege of Mandalore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart aches at the thought of what could’ve been. Din knows it’s all right in front of him, but this isn’t his. This isn’t real. But he wants, more than anything, for it to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din swallows, takes a step away from it all. He bumps into Other Corin who’s standing directly behind him. Heavy hands come up to grip Din’s biceps. Din has never been more aware of the gaps in his armor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where do you think you’re going?” A growling voice behind him asks. The grip of each finger tightens a fraction. Nearly bruising in the overbearing pressure. “The celebration has just begun, and you need to announce your arrival to the Armorer.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din swallows, gulp audible in the ringing silence inside of his helmet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need to go home, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Din thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it aloud. There’s no telling what Other Corin might do if his plans were contradicted.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other steers Din through the common room and down one of the hallways. He’s in complete control of each one of Din’s actions and decisions. He feels like a fly caught in a web. A lamb led to slaughter. A marionette with tangled strings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a shove, Din trips into the Forge, paranoia forced to the backburner in the presence of his Alor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Armorer drops what she is working on and immediately turns to acknowledge the two. “Din Djarin!” She chirps, dusting off her hands on her leather apron. Even the Alor, upholder of the Way and the keeper of their traditions, is bare faced before them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It startles Din so badly he nearly knocks into the shelf behind him. He had thought, had hoped, that of everyone else here, the Armorer would be the one to keep her helmet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But even she had let loose her golden curls, her thin nose, and blank eyes. Just like the Others. Her smile is just as wide, just as plastic, just as happy and cheerful. It’s so off putting, so out of character, so strange that Din doesn’t know what to do with himself. Instead of choosing, Din pins his eyes to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other Armorer takes a step forward, setting an uncharacteristically gentle hand on the crown of his helmet. It trails down fondly to his cheek and tips up his chin, forcing him to look at her. His neck cranes uncomfortably at the angle. “Welcome home, Din.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din has never felt further and farther from home than he does in this moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His throat feels dry and he can’t come up with anything to say to his Other Alor. He had wanted to ask her how this had all happened, why she had allowed the removal of helmets, why they had abandoned their way of life. He was hoping to find some sort of normalcy in the one true constant he’s had for most of his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But even the Armorer is nothing more than a hollow shell of praise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I made this for you while you were gone,” she sings, turning around to grab whatever it was that she had been working on. “If anyone deserves it, it is you, for bringing peace to our clan.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other Armorer reveals her gift: an elaborately made cuirass, engraved with a mudhorn signet, sigils and protective runes carved into the seams. It’s made of pure beskar, at least three of four full ingots of it. Gleaming silver and flickering in the reflection of the fire. It’s priceless, and above all it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gift like this, of this significance, would have been given only as an act of extreme importance. Yet Din has done nothing close to deserving such a prize. He made no sacrifice, he brought in no bounty, he saved no one's life. The only thing he has done is </span>
  <em>
    <span>take</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Indulging in this fantasy, leaving his real family behind, an impulse born from a selfish desire for </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. He does not deserve her gift. He has never deserved her gift. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Din stutters, trying to find words in the oppressive shame. “I can’t accept this.” He keeps his hands balled into fists by his side. He will not reach out. He will not take it. He can’t. Not this. Not after what he’s done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin steps closer, the movement catching in Din’s peripherals. The hair stands on the back of his neck. It is only by sheer will that Din’s hand does not twitch towards his blaster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you can.” Other Corin’s voice is like silk, soothing out any imperfections. You cannot refuse a gift from your Alor.” He coaxes Din like he’s some sort of cornered animal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he is. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din watches his hands reach for the cuirass, holding it lightly in his hands as Other Corin begins to undo the clasps on his old battered one. The Other’s fingers find each buckle, deftly clicking them apart as though he had done it dozens of times. There is a moment, no longer than a breath, between one breastplate and the next, where Din’s heart is completely bared. If Other Corin wanted an easy kill, it would be now. But nothing happens, of course it doesn’t. He’s being ridiculous. He’s completely safe here, Din reminds himself. If Other Corin wanted to kill him he never would’ve led him out of the woods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A dark part of Din’s brain reminds him there are much worse fates than death. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other Armorer does a giddy shuffle and clasps her hands together. “Oh it’s perfect! I was afraid it wouldn’t fit right. But it’s just right, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din nods, looking down at the scuffed and dented cuirass in his hands. The one made from the beskar he had earned from the child’s bounty. The one that had taken countless shots for him, that Corin had polished for him in apology, that had held up time and time again against countless enemies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin takes it from his hands and discards it off to the side. It makes a hollow clunk, rattling against the duracrete floor. The sound echoes in the room, louder than a seismic charge, ringing through Din’s ears even over the roar of the furnace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come.” The Other’s grip is a shackle on his wrist. “Paz will want to see you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is barely able to throw a goodbye over his shoulder before he is dragged off once more. The Armorer seems unbothered by the abrupt exit, dismissing them with an over-enthusiastic wave and a stretched smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is led back through the maze of tunnels into the noisy common room. Other Paz waves them over the moment they enter, obviously having been watching and waiting for them to arrive. Other Corin navigates through the huddle of people dancing and rejoicing, though what exactly they’re celebrating, Din has no idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vod!” Other Paz greets, “We’ve missed you!” He motions for them to come closer, the pale drink in his hand swirling violently with the movement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By his side stands a deadly gorgeous woman, or at least she is from a distance. The closer Din gets, the more he sees, the more artificial her face becomes. Cheekbones sculpted from marble and just as immobile, wiry brown hair tied up in a too-tight braid that pulls at the roots and forces her skin close against the bone, lips plump and ripe and looking like they might just disintegrate if you touch them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is only because of her red chest plate that Din is able to identify her as Raga. “I’ve only been gone a day?” Din jokes, or tries to, but it falls flat. He never takes his eyes off of Raga’s unmoving face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her clouded hazy eyes lift to meet his visor. “And still it’s been too long,” Other Raga says, glowing and energetic, with the exact same tone everyone but Other Corin has used to speak to him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin laughs, always shifting the focus back to himself. “Any time you leave, we miss you,” He says, white eyes softening into something that could almost be described as genuine. “You’re an important part of our lives here. It would be best if you never left, then no one would worry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is grateful for his helmet so that Other Corin can’t see the panic that must surely be hidden in his eyes. Instead of bolting for the door, he chuckles, the sound disingenuous even to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drink with us!” Other Paz cheers, “Celebrate your long-awaited arrival! Let us sing your praises well into the night.” He raises a glass full of ale and knocks it against the matching one in Raga’s hand, the drink sloshing over the rim and splattering onto the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s what they were celebrating? Din’s arrival? He was the cause for all this fanfair? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din watches with mild disgust as Other Paz chugs his drink, foam dripping down the sides of his mouth and dribbling from his chin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin presses a glass into Din’s hands, this one with a straw. “Stay a while,” he teases with a wink. Din curses the way his heart flutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But stay he does. For hours. Wasting away the day drinking and laughing. Once Din gets used to the somewhat… alien appearance of his friends, it’s actually kind of nice to sit and talk with them. After a while, they didn’t feel quite so </span>
  <em>
    <span>Other</span>
  </em>
  <span> at all. Corin is a constant warm presence at his side, Paz is being nice for the first time in his life, and Raga is laughing more than Din has ever seen her laugh in the entire time he’s known her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s easy, too easy, to forget that he has a life and responsibilities and obligations waiting for him on the other side of the woods. It’s almost hypnotic, the pulse of the music and the ambrosia in the drink that never seems to go empty. The heat against his thigh and the possessive hand around his waist is addicting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din wants more. He almost wants to stay. And the allure, the pull, the urge to just give in, nearly overwhelms him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey now there’s an idea!” Paz knocks his hand against Raga’s pauldron. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din smiles to himself under his helm, tuning back into their conversation, previously distracted with the way the shadows play against Corin’s skin. “Hmm? What’s that?” Din takes another lazy sip of his drink, spellbound by the fog that has settled in his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raga giggles behind her hand. “I said you should be the Alor, silly!” She shakes her head, like the thought had been obvious all along. “We like you much better anyway!” She praises, like a parrot on Paz’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din hums to himself, sipping at his straw. The idea was something Din had thought about before, he wouldn’t lie. He has imagined himself sitting in front of the forge, power and responsibility in one. He could do it. He would be well suited to the task, as Raga so kindly pointed out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din looks out over the crowd, his clan, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> people. They seem happier than ever. Faces both young and old, playing and talking and engaging with one another. It’s a great big mess of faces, but they’re all smiling. They’re all at peace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An old woman takes an old man by the arm and drags him out onto the dance floor. A lothcat leaps onto a table and knocks over a vase, causing another roar of laughter. A young man dances in the center of a circle, kicking out his feet as he plays a bes’bev. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A small child jumps up to catch its parents hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s heart jerks for his own kid. He can’t help but think of how the little womp rat would love all this. How he would chase the mouse droids through the crowd and climb high on Corin’s shoulders until he could see above the sea of heads. How he would giggle and refuse to come down from the rafters until lured with the scent of food. The mere thought brings a smile to Din’s lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Din’s Other kid is gone, and his real kid is back home. His real kid needs him and Din had left him, left them both. Guilt winds around Din’s throat at the memory of dropping out on Corin, leaving him alone to deal with their screaming child. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had he done? Why had he left? What had possessed him to just run from his family like that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The illusion shatters like glass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is left gasping in the realization of what he's left behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His family. His son. His life and everything he had built and earned and bled for. No, it wasn’t this nice. And no, it wasn’t perfect. And yes, he wishes things were different. But it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>his. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And this. This isn’t anything but a fever dream. An unrealistic skewed image of what Din wants but doesn’t need. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t need to be the Alor, he doesn’t need the fancy breastplate, he doesn’t need everyone being so nice to him, he doesn’t need the remodeled Crest, he doesn’t need any of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din needs to go home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chair screeches loudly as Din stands, but he can’t hear it over the thundering in his ears. He looks down at the table, silence falls where there was once a never ceasing conversation. “I- I need some air.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>He needs to get out of here. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t we take a walk?” Corin, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Other Corin</span>
  </em>
  <span>, suggests. But Din doesn’t get to say no, that he’d rather go alone, before he’s being hauled out of the common room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They quickly pass through the foyer and across the threshold. Other Barthor nods as they pass. “Hey Din! Welcome home, we’ve all been…” but Din never hears the guard finish. Other Corin doesn’t stop, doesn’t take a breath, doesn’t rest for a moment. They rush by every empty-eyed person they pass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The iron hand around Din’s wrist leads him, pulls him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>drags him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like a lamb to slaughter. Din doesn’t know where they’re going. He can’t ask. His throat has closed and even breathing sends needles into his lungs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They march up the lip of the valley, around to the top of the rocky outcropping, and down a small path in the woods that Din had never noticed before. The mist approaches, closes in around them, but it never passes even an inch into the trail. They’re connected to the meadow by a narrowing thread of safety from the opaque walls that are closing in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the path does not lead forever. And after stumbling and nearly falling on countless numbers of rocks and limbs and roots, Din finds himself at the entrance of a small but perfectly circular gap in the trees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this place?” Din asks, looking around the area Other Corin has led him to. In the center lies a smoking heap of wreckage. A transport ship malformed and half buried. Metal twisted and curled in tendrils reaching for the forest canopy. The smoke whisps and twists in psychedelic spirals around the metal juts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is then that Din realizes it’s not smoke at all, but mist. A thick white fog that rolls and billows in an endless stream from the wreckage, striking up into the sky and then gently arching out into the forest that surrounds everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a long and tense silence, Other Corin finally speaks. “It’s our ruins. The origins of our people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din catches the inclusion. He doesn’t like it. “Our?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Din. Step into the circle. Become one of us. You could stay forever. You could have everything you ever wanted. Don’t you want this to be your reality?” Other Corin motions you the world around him, a joyful smile and real pride on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For half a moment, Din thinks about it. Actually thinks about what it might be like. To live here, to abandon all his duties and obligations, to wipe away the stress and all the mistakes. To erase the past and step into a new life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But any sense of wanting is gone before Din can seriously consider it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din takes a breath. His resolve hardens into steel that laces his voice. “No, no this is what I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> Corin. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>instead</span>
  </em>
  <span> of him. You… you’re not- no.” Din waves Other Corin off, turning, taking a step, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in the right direction. “No, I'm leaving. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not going anywhere.” Other Corin’s voice is pure venom and malice. He, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, holds Din in place with a bone crushing grip on his wrist. Din can feel his joints grind together under the pressure. “You’re staying with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>am your reality. I can be whatever, whoever, you want me to be.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other warps, shifts, skin melting and bones bending. Din can’t look away. Horror curdling in his stomach. Nausea builds at the wet snap of joints popping in and out of place. The stretch of tendons and bulging snew of muscle as it rolls underneath thin connective tissue. Fat bubbles and boils as it rearranges itself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the Other has settled, its form shifting into something recognizable as human, Din feels all the air leave his lungs. The fight leaves him. The hollowness in his chest brings him to his knees, staring up at it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A woman Din never thought he would see again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand reaches out to gently caress his helmet. Din hates himself for the way he leans into it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this who you want me to be?” Other Omera asks, her voice like silk. It calls Din back to Sorgan, to a memory of temporary peace. He remembers hope and longing and the first time he felt the ice around his heart begin to thaw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din can’t breathe. Not when he’s staring up at a ghost. And even when her hair is more stringy than soft, her blank clouded eyes that are condescending instead of welcoming, her cheekbones too gaunt, Din still mourns her and the life he was so close to having. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this what you want? Is this what will make you stay?” The hand on his helmet forces his head to turn back to the vast, open, clearing through the needle eye path and revealing a sliver of what lay beyond. Instead of the bustling covert and the Razor Crest, Din sees the krill farm. He can hear children laughing and adults singing away the work day. He can almost taste the moisture of humid air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din can’t do more than blink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Answer me!” She snaps, the gentle caress turning into a sharp backhand. Din flinches away from her, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallows, falling back onto his hands, trying to put as much distance between him and </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he can. He sucks in a breath, it feels like the first time he’s been able to breath in hours. The adrenaline kicks through his system, the shock beginning to slip and fade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to go home.” Din’s voice sounds weak even to himself. He clears his throat and stares up into its face, trying to be brave against the flutter in his stomach and the raw panic in his veins. “I want to go </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
  <span>To </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> child. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> Corin.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All emotion drops from its stolen face, eyes going cold and calculating. The disappointment palpable. “Wrong answer.” Other Omera grabs his wrist quicker than Din can slip away. With an unnatural strength, the other drags Din down the hill and back into its den.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kicks out and twists and fights and yells for Corin, his Corin. He struggles and pushes and it’s still not enough. The Other’s grip on his wrist is an unbreakable tether to this illusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As it walks, it begins to morph again. More grotesque and alien with every step. Six spindly legs made of mix-matched bones that are sewn together at the joint. Skin stretched paper thin until it’s transparent against pulsing flesh. Din chokes down bile, forced to watch its arms elongate and splinter into needle-like appendages. The fingers curled around his arm grow and grow until they’re wrapped like vines and Din knows there’s no way he’s getting out of this alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din reaches for the trees that confine the path to the meadow. His free hand flails desperately and finds not purchase, his leg kicks out to hook a foot around a sapling but that too is wrenched away from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s hopeless. But Din doesn’t stop fighting. He has to get back to them, to his son, to Corin, to his tribe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They break through the trees and the meadow is revealed to be nothing more than just that. All the vendor stalls disappearing into mist. The krill ponds filled and buried. The Razor Crest, the people, the smells, the tastes, the entire fabric of reality around him. It’s gone. It’s all gone. None of it was more than a trick, a spell, a mirage of desperation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The people, the lines they had been programmed to say, the things they had given him, the emotions they had projected. None of it was real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even the ornate cuirass fades into thin air and Din is left exposed and vulnerable without it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other Corin, or at least the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>playing his part, was real. Din was sure of that. No illusion was this violent. No dream was this bruising.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If there was one alien, there had to be more, dozens maybe, shifted and smiling, playing the part of a new background character in Other Corin’s show. Everything pivoted around Other Corin, the puppet master holding the strings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din twists, trying to get a better view of where they’re headed, hoping there’s something, anything, to get him out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sees the outcropping, the sharp and jagged rocks that rose from the slope of hills surrounding the valley. The cave entrance, a gaping mouth, is a harbinger of Dins impending death. It looks as though it could swallow him whole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All consuming and plunging into the deep dark. Din is dragged against the rough stone and uneven floors. He sees the gleam of eyes watching him from the shadows. White and bulbous. Pinpoint glass beads filled with the forest fog. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din doesn’t even have a chance to catch his breath, not a second to gather himself, to try and understand what the hell is going on. The world around him is collapsing leaving Din without a parachute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is only vaguely aware of being thrown into a room, the door being locked, the key being taken away. He barely remembers slamming himself against the door, screaming for someone to help him, clawing at the seams until his fingers bled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other hovers outside the door. A painful reminder of just how trapped Din is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Its voice is no longer smooth, the silk turned to sandpaper. It grates in the edges of Din’s nerves and sends acid to the back of his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will stay in there until you learn to be grateful for what I’ve given you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes off into the night, leaving Din alone to die. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To say that Corin is exhausted is an understatement. His feet drag, bones turned molten. The child slung across his chest is </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> asleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken Corin nearly an hour after Din had left to get the little tyke to stop screaming. Corin would never yell at the kid, but he had gotten pretty close to just bursting into tears himself.  Corin is never usually this short tempered but he’s just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been nearly a week since Corin had slept for more than two hours at a time. First, there was the hunt, which had gone well, but it meant sleeping in shifts and always staying on the move. And then there was the meeting with the client which had fallen through when they had to steal what they were rightfully owed, booked it back to the ship, and then an engine was shot out just as they made the jump to hyperspace. Once they had landed here, Corin was awake that whole first night because, for some force forsaken reason, this planet’s daylight cycle was the exact </span>
  <em>
    <span>opposite</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the Standard Cycle rhythm. Then Din had been gone all day and well into the night, and then two nights, and then the kid, and then-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So. No. Corin had not gotten any sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the kid had cried himself out, Corin went down to make them food, found nothing but bland rations. Driven by both hunger and boredom, he decided to make a trip into town. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which leads him to where he is right now, blinking up at the figure in front of him, not entirely sure if he’s hallucinating or not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Din? Is that you?” He calls, bringing a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes so he could focus on the wavering figure. They’re only halfway back to the ship. Maybe Din had come looking?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gloved hand comes up in an enthusiastic wave and Corin smiles to himself. He feels relief at the mere prospect of getting a break sometime soon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din starts walking towards them, a slight jilt to his step that hadn’t been there before. That was one of the first things Corin had noticed about Din, how lithe and fluidly he had moved. Was Din injured? Is that why he was back so early?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The child stayed soundly asleep even as Corin picked up the pace to meet Din in the middle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where were you?” Din asks when he gets close, immediately reaching out to put a steadying hand on Corin’s shoulder. “I got worried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin blinks. He thought for sure Din would be upset, or at least still frustrated from that morning. “Sorry.” It’s the first thing he can think to say. “I went to the market. Found us some more supplies. Even managed to finally get the little guy asleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” The gloved hand on Corin’s shoulder drifts up to cup his cheek in an oddly fond gesture. Corin stiffens immediately wondering what he had done wrong. Why was Din suddenly being so nice? What sort of luck was waiting on the other side of this? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re safe. I always worry about you.” The hand pushes back to Corin’s neck and pulls him in for a keldabe kiss. The beskar is uncomfortably cold, colder than it should be, colder than it’s ever been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin leans in anyway, brushing off the lurch in his gut as nothing more than nerves from their fight that morning. Maybe this was just Din’s way of apologizing. Although, if he really wanted to apologize, he would take the kid for a while so Corin could climb into the bunk for a few hours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling back, Din takes a quick glance at Corin, helmet tilting to the side in a way that always told Corin there was a smile hidden underneath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin can help but respond with one of his own. “What?” He laughs. “Have I got something on my face?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din shakes his head fondly. And then he does something that shocks Corin clear down to his core. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din takes his hand and laces their fingers together. “Come. There’s something I want to show you. I found it out in the woods, you’ll love it. I know you will.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin is left reeling. He can hardly think let alone breathe. He doesn’t even try to resist as Din leads him right past the ship and in between the unconquerable maze of trees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Corin can think again, he’s too deep in the woods to remember how they got here. Mist rolls across their shoes, sap from the grass sticking to his soles. The grip on his hand gets tighter, and tighter, until Corin can feel his knuckles start to buckle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid sleeps peacefully. Too peacefully. There’s no movement of his eyes, no twitch in his ears, no flick of his fingers. If Corin didn’t know better he would almost say the child is-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin digs his heels into the ground, jerking them both to a stop. The villagers had warned him about the forest. Had whispered between their stalls rumors of thick syrup that put you into a complicit trance, unable to fight back and only aware of what was happening until it was too late. They had rambled, wide eyed and </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified,</span>
  </em>
  <span> about shapeshifting monsters that talked sweet nothings and made promises they could never keep.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-we shouldn’t be in here, Din,” Corin warns, looking around desperately for a way out. He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like any of this. It screams Bad Luck. “We should go back. We… we should leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin is jerked sharply forward by a hand with too many fingers, staring up into a face with too many teeth, struck dumb by the </span>
  <em>
    <span>horror</span>
  </em>
  <span> of eyes with no end. His heart stops beating. His lungs grow cold. His bones turn to graphite. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re not going anywhere.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tiny clawed hand tap, tap, taps against Din’s helmet. He groans and smacks it away, huddling further into himself. It's cold. It’s dark. A piercing pressure pounds against his temples. He just wants it all to go away. He wants to go home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the tapping comes again, more insistent this time, rushed and almost panicked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din moans and turns over to face the intrusion. “What the hell do you-?” Din stops when he sees what’s in front of him. A door. An</span>
  <em>
    <span>open</span>
  </em>
  <span> door. With his kid, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not his kid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, standing in between. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is seconds from yelling, screaming, jumping over and trying to kill the thing with his bare hands. But something stops him. Something in the way the empty eyes swirl with the first real emotion Din has seen since he’s been here. An emotion disturbingly similar to pity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other child holds out an olive branch, his cuirass, the same one that had been stripped from him and abandoned in the forge. Had that really been only hours ago?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A realization is made. Din moves to sit up, eyeing the Other warily as he puts on his breastplate. The comforting weight of the beskar soothes Din’s raw nerves. He can finally take a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you helping me?” Din asks, unwilling to trust anything that came from this place. Who’s to say the kid wasn’t just another illusion, a trap, a false sense of hope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other child nods, not that that makes Din trust him anymore, but for now, it’s the only chance he’s got. Even if this is nothing more than a game, it’s better than waiting in the cell to die. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din follows the Other as they walk through a labyrinth of empty tunnels lit only by a string of bare bulbs tacked to the ceiling. As they pass, there are other Others, peering from the shadows. Creatures that Din imagines might have been much like himself, lured here by some tantalizing illusion and never able to break free, never able to say no, until they too were trapped in Other Corin’s web. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re not heading for the front door. Din knows that much from the air that grows more moist and stale with every turn they make. They’re heading deeper into the den. It only makes Din more suspicious of the Other child, but really, at this point, what does he have to lose?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A lot. He could lose a lot actually. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you taking me?” Din demands, but the Other child spares him no more than a quick backwards glance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din stops in his tracks, unwilling to move another inch without an answer. The Other kid huffs and turns around, glaring at him. “Where are we going?” Din asks again. He gets no answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His irritation peaks, his anger boiling over into a frustrated rage. He wants to go </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Why aren’t you talking?! I know you can speak!” Din wants to grab the little thing and shake it until it gives him the answers he needs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other child points to its mouth, pulling at the strings that hold it shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din kneels, his anger pushed to the backburner. “Did… Did he do this to you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other child nods, wide white eyes looking down at the floor. For a moment, Din actually feels bad for the creature. But then it’s up and moving again, waving Din along on their path. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the first hint of daylight, Din feels like he might cry. He’s so close. He really might just make it out of this alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He breaks into a sprint, leaping over the Other child and making a break for the door. It’s not the same door he had entered through, but it doesn’t matter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His boots squeak as Din stops dead in his tracks at the edge of the tunnel. He looks over his shoulder at the Other that has stopped several feet away. “Come with me,” Din pleads. “You can be free of this place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other child shakes its head. It makes no move to run. It sits down in the middle of the hallway staring up at Din. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come with me!” Din begs. He can’t just leave the Other behind. Not when he’s saved his life. “He’s going to kill you when he finds out.” He can’t handle the guilt of that hovering over his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other child nods, and it almost looks resigned, relieved. Din realizes it’s little life ended the moment it stepped foot into the forest. It’s giving Din the chance it never had. This is a gift for both of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” The words scrape at Din’s throat, threatening to choke him. There’s nothing more he can say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other child tilts its head in farewell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din runs from the cave and this time, he doesn’t look back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He runs and he runs and he runs and there’s no way he will ever be able to find his own way out of this mess. The forest goes on for miles in every direction. From orbit, the forest covers nearly half the continent and there was no real way to know how far Din is from the tree line or even what direction he’s heading. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din realizes he has no other choice. He has to go back. But if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t even know which way the meadow oasis is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can die here, out in the forest, alone and starving and never having said goodbye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or he can go back, having a fighting chance. If he can kill Other Corin then maybe, just maybe, there were Others like the child. Ones that still had memories of what it was like to be their own person. Ones that wanted more than anything to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>go home.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din never gets the chance to go back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought we had an agreement?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice. The same from the beginning. The same one that had gotten him stuck in this whole mess. Corin’s voice. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Other’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din whirls around on his heel, trying to find the source. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did I tell you could you leave?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice calls to him, mocks him, lures him in and then bites. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And just like before, the Other appears from nowhere. Seeming to apparate and manifest from the mist itself. It steps in, too close, patch-work face inches from Din’s visor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re coming back with me.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A needle point hand grabs at his vambrace. Din jerks away but the Other is faster. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have something you want.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din fights back, trying to rip his hand away, trying to regain control of the spiral mess his life has fallen into. “What the kriff could you possibly have-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your family.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ice. Ice that sinks battleships and freezes continents. Ice that crawls so slowly you don’t even notice until you’re engulfed in it, until it's too late. Ice that claims entire planets, wrapping them in a lifeless wasteland. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ice that lays into Din’s very bones because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for maybe the first time, the Other is telling the truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din has nothing without them. He is nothing without them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So there is nothing he can do except follow. And this time, the Other doesn’t even need to take Din’s hand. It has something far more precious to control him with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walk in silence. Each step too loud in the eerily quiet forest. Din knows he’s walking into a trap. He has no plan. No magical escape. He is completely at the mercy of the Other so long as it has his Aliit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My people were once proud and numerous,” The Other says, surprising Din out of his stupor. He doesn’t give a shit about the Other’s kind, its motivations, or where it came from. He doesn’t want to hear its sob story. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is forced to listen anyway. “We conquered entire planets. We slipped in undetected and took over interplanetary regimes. We were all powerful and absolutely nothing could stop us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din doesn’t respond. He tries to tune it out, but there is no other sound except for the snap of sticky grass and the rustle of leaves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we got greedy, drew too much attention to ourselves. The wrong groups took notice and the galaxy recognized us for the threat we were.” The Other’s voice sounds sad, wistful. It’s disturbing to think anything this conniving and cruel could ever have had a heart in its core. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is something close to regret and remorse on the Other’s face. “We were hunted. To near extermination. Until all we had left was one transport ship. And when even that was gunned down we had nothing.” The Other gets caught up in the memories, pausing to sulk in the past. ”I was one of the lucky few survivors, jumping into an escape pod equipped with the last of our breeding systems.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other casts a wide hand towards the expansive forest. It is proud of this hell it has created.“You see Din, this mist, this fog, it all originates from the ruins. It all comes from me. It is how I warp these illusions. It is how I am able to make more of us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the drugs you’ve been giving me since I got here? Is that part of the mist too?” Din growls, lashing out against the leverage the Other holds over him. He’s far past caring if he upset the other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other laughs. “No! No that was just good luck. It’s in the sap in the grass and the water in the trees. It’s a gift that makes my work a little bit easier.” The Other trails reverent fingers across the bark as they pass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trees open to reveal the wide meadow, devoid of all evidence of life. As though it had never seen a footprint. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin and the child, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> ones. They hovered several feet above the air in some sort of stasis. Too still to be really sleeping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can have them back after you have completed the conversion process,” Other Corin ssys, making promises it never intends to keep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why me?” Din doesn’t understand. Doesn’t get it. Why did all of this have to happen to him? Why not someone else, anyone else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because an army needs soldiers, and one day, we will reclaim what is rightfully ours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din reaches out to touch the real Corin’s hand, reminding himself why he was here in the first place. He had been so stupid, so blind, so ignorant to what had been right in front of him the entire time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din closes his eyes and sighs. He squeezes Corin’s hand and just before he can let go there’s an ear piercing scream. Din reaches up to cover his ears but the helmet only blocks so much. He falls to his knees, the sound vibrating through his skull and down his spine. It rattles his ribcage as though the scream itself was a physical object pushing him into the dirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The scream trails off into hiccuping cries, wails loud enough to be heard for miles. It was a sound Din recognized. It pulled on his heart strings out of guilt and shame because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been the one to cause his child so much pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din scrambles to his feet, trying to reach out for his son. Trying to offer any support he could. But before he can reach him he watches in shock as his baby holds out both of his tiny clawed hands, and clenches them into fists. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bones crack. A skull explodes from the inside out. Organs twist and knot together until they are pulled so tightly that they tear apart in a wet pulse of tissue. Skin dissolves and emulsifies as raw energy is blasted into its system.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din hears it all, but he doesn’t dare look, he can’t look. But he knows the Other is dead when the illusion dissolves like paper, the mist blown away on the wind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin and the child both drop to the ground, Corin jerking awake from whatever spell he had been under. His bright blue eyes are filled with fear as he protectively curls himself around the child and cowers away from Din’s outstretched hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get away! Get away from me!” Corin shouts, panic turning his voice raw and his movements desperate. He scrambles away away </span>
  <em>
    <span>away</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din can’t lose them again. Not when he’s come so close. “No! No Corin it’s me! It’s just me. The real me, I promise.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin stops but the rapid heave of his chest does not. Din can see the way his pulse races, the way his wide blue eyes search the meadow for any threat, the way his hands hold the child tightly to his chest. Corin makes no move towards Din, and when Din takes a step closer, Corin scoots farther. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The child coos sadly against Corin’s chest, pushing against the confinement until Corin lets him go free. Immediately, he rushes to Din’s side. Din wastes no time in cuddling his son into his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The relief between all three of them is palpable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a noise by the entrance of the cave. Corin has his blaster drawn and ready before the thing even has time to raise its hands in surrender. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's the Other child. Not dead after all then. The threads in its mouth are still wound tightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin tenses, ready to shoot, but before he can fire Din’s head pushes down his barrel. “Not this one. This one can help us get home.” Din’s eyes never leave the figure at the mouth of the cave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin looks up confused and frowning. “They just tried to kill us and you’re defending them?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just this one. It… helped me.” Din doesn’t know how to phrase it, how to explain it. He doesn’t expect Corin to trust it, he doesn’t even trust it himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin huffs and clenches his jaw, a thousand unspoken protests on his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din stands, holding the fussy child closely. “Can you take us back to the ship?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Other nods and takes a step out into the sun. It looks up, basking in the warm rays that are cast across its face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then it warps, figure twisting and rolling with anatomically impossible flexibility. It’s true form is no less terrifying. It’s skin is thicker, almost like hide, spare hair growing at odd angles and irregular intervals. It too has too many fingers and too many legs and too many teeth and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The child ducks its head into Din’s shoulder, looking away from the monster in fright. But the little guy doesn’t scream or lash out, so for now at least, Din feels like he might be able to trust it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Din says, choking down his nausea at the sight. “But there’s one thing left to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din holds out a hand and pulls Corin up to his feet. As much as he doesn’t want to, as much as his instincts scream to just bolt, Din walks in the opposite direction he should be. He walks up onto the hill behind the rocks and down the slim path that leads to the wreckage of an old ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin follows close behind, crossing several personal boundaries that had been made between them but right now, neither can bring themselves to care. They need reassurance, they need each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din uses spare blast charges clipped to his belt to blow the ruins to scrap. He doesn’t want even a chance of one of these creatures to finish what their leader had started. When the ship explodes and the droning hum of machinery goes quiet, the fog seems to lift. The forest begins to clear without the constant stream of poison being fed into it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re led quickly through the woods, a straight path spear headed by the creature with legs longer than the rest of its body combined. Din tries not to look at it too closely and he knows Corin is doing the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It isn’t until after they’ve breached the tree-line that Din dares to let himself breathe. One deep breath, and then two, and then he turns and waves goodbye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin is already halfway up the ramp of the Razor Crest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The child is close to sleep and usually, Din would put him down in his little compartment, but right now, Din needs to be close just as much as the little guy does. For tonight, he allows it, and brings the child up to the cockpit with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finds Corin in the pilot's seat already starting the preflight checks. He startles when he hears Din enter and throws a sheepish glance over his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Corin shrugs. “I’m just ready to get out of here.” He stands from the seat, relinquishing control back over to Din. Corin collapses in his chair, a heavy sigh escaping him as he settles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din flips a few buttons and the Crest rumbles to life. Before they take off, he looks back at Corin, one final check in. He doesn’t like what he finds. It’s almost as if it’s the first time he's been able to see Corin clearly in days. The deep bags under dull blue eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, the twisted knots of unwashed hair, the deep grime under his nails. How much of that had been from today, and how much of that had Din missed?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Concern flares tight in Din’s chest. “You look exhausted.” He wants to reach out and rub Corin’s knee, wants to offer any comfort and reassurance he can, but the boundaries between them are starting to get blurry. The last thing Din wants to do is overstep and scare Corin off for good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sigh Corin gives is one Din is all too familiar with. It’s a sigh of deep exhaustion, of chronic fatigue, of running on empty for a week too long. It’s the sigh that comes just before the crash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din can’t believe he hadn’t noticed sooner. His guilt doubles on itself when he is reminded just how much grief he greed has caused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin rubs a dirty hand over his eyes. “I haven’t slept in a week, Din.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din is rushing to apologize, the words flooding from his mouth as his guilt begins to overflow. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. More than you could ever know Corin I- I don’t even have an excuse. It was- I can’t explain it. It felt like-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Corin held up a hand to stop him. “No, I get it. I felt it too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Din’s mouth has gone dry. He doesn’t know if he will ever be able to say sorry enough. He turns back to the controls and forces the ship up into the atmosphere. The jump to hyperspace can’t come quick enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later, when Corin is fast asleep, showered, fed, and finally feeling at peace. When the child is sleeping soundly on his chest, ears twitching as he dreams. Din tucks a blanket around his world and gently touches his helmet to each of their foreheads. Warmth surrounds them. Love begins to chase the cold dread out of Din’s bones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not perfect. And it’s not always what he wants. But this is all Din needs, and he would never change a thing. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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